Ineluctable
by WitchyGirl99
Summary: In two minutes the world is going to end. You can see him, standing there, watching you. The seconds are ticking down. He's leaving you. But you've fought for it, all of it. And so you wait. Always. InuKag, oneshot.


_**Author's Note:** __As I have been mainly MIA, you may refer to my homepage link on my profile for more consistent updates on what I'm doing, what my goals are, sneak previews and more._

_**In Addition:** Please note that I am not in the state of mind where even constructive criticism will be warmly accepted. This piece just is as it is. Thank you._

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha. I do not profit from this story._

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><p><strong>Ineluctable<strong>

_By necessity and by error, the world will continue on its path of free will and of an ineluctable fate._

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><p>In two minutes, the world is going to end.<p>

It won't end because of hurricanes, or nuclear explosions or even malnutrition. The water isn't going to be so polluted that no one can drink, the air isn't going to become so tarnished no one can breathe. The world isn't going to end that way. In fact, it's not even close.

You're waiting. Always waiting. It's the way the world works, the way your world works. You stand there, waiting, because what else can you do? What else can you say? It's now or never, but since the moment has come you're lost for words, scrambling.

You can see him, standing there, watching you. He's watching you like you're about to run, to flee and never come back. His eyes bore holes – into your head, your heart, your soul – and it doesn't matter if you turn tail and run, because you're never going to lose him. He's going to be right there, staring.

Always.

You can see the way the wind blows his hair, silver and shining brilliantly in the moonlight. You can tell it's tangled, messed up from winds out of his control. He doesn't care anyways, you know that. You know him, and it hurts just that much more.

"Don't," he whispers, and you want to fall apart. You feel every nerve ending tingle painfully, every beat of your heart pounding you to the core. "Don't think about it. Let go, Kagome."

You shake your head, because no, _no_, you won't. You won't let go, you won't give this up. Not yet, not now and not ever. But even while you think it, even while you promise yourself things that'll never come true, you realize the impossibilities as they present themselves. There he is, bleeding and staring, beautiful and utterly broken, and you've got nothing.

Nothing to save him, nothing to say but no.

And it isn't enough.

In one minute, the world is going to shatter.

A million pieces maybe, but you can't be sure. It's intangible right now, a far away thought as you look at him, Inuyasha, and wonder. Wonder if this was the way it was always going to end, the way things were always going to be. His breathing is laboured but he's going to live. If you just hold on, don't let go, you could survive.

You could move on.

"Kagome–"

"Stop it," you hiss. You don't want to hear it, even as the midnight sky darkens, tendrils of inky blackness dancing into the world. Your world. The world of you and him, the only thing that's ever mattered since you first laid eyes on each other. "I can't do it. Don't try and make me, Inuyasha." You think he should get it. You think he should figure things out. So far it's always been the two of you, always the two of you. "Damn it, Inuyasha, don't you _dare_."

"You have to let this go," he whispers, and you want to punch him. You want to punch him, and kiss him and hold him so tightly that you'll never be separated. Not now, not ever, even though it's not possible.

In thirty seconds, the world is going to die.

He swipes at the blood fruitlessly on his nose, and you always knew you were strong but never _that_ strong. Maybe he made you that strong. Maybe he made you that weak.

"Did this mean anything?" you whisper, because you need the proof, the evidence that it was there all along. This means too much to you, so much that your heart is going to burst and your eyes are already tearing up, preparing for the end.

It's the final countdown now, the ticking in your head getting louder and louder. There's not much time and he's not talking. He's just staring at you, like he did when he first met you, and you want to punch him in the face all over again.

"Let go," he whispers, and this time – _this time_ – he sounds broken too, just like you. It makes you feel better and worse all at once, so much so that your knees are weak, breath too short. Why is it so hot? Why is the room spinning?

"Please don't." You're begging now, pleading. Maybe you're on your knees on the ground, clinging to him. Maybe you're just standing there, frozen and unsure. Maybe you're torn, wanting to do one but unable to, and why is this so hard? Why is the world so cruel?

In three seconds, it's all over.

"I love you," he says, strongly, assuredly. "Always."

And maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. He turns around, grabbing a napkin from the table before heading back inside to the party. His party. An engagement proposed by those above you. And that door he walks through, it's a galaxy away. Because he's gone now. Out of reach.

He's leaving you, and instead of the bed you've made together he's sleeping in another. By choice, you can't be sure. You pray not, you pray. But you can't move, can't breathe.

And the seconds are gone, the world has gone black and you're alone, standing, breathing, clinging. You don't know what you're clinging to, why you're still alive because surely it's all over. You and he created a world, a perfect little world that changed everything. But now he's gone, torn from your hands even though you fought. You fought for it, all of it.

It wasn't enough.

Why are you still breathing? Why are you still standing?

And you realize it as the minutes pass, slowly – ever so painfully slow. You're still standing, still breathing, still clinging because he could come back. He could come back. He could come back. He could come back. He could. He could.

And you wait. Just like you always do.

Waiting. Always waiting. It's the way the world works, the way your world works. You stand there, waiting, because what else can you do?

When he doesn't come back, you realize you've never stopped standing, never stopped breathing, never stopped clinging. You're still here, stuck, frozen. Waiting.

But the world– not your world, he's gone now.

The world goes on. It will always, forever go on.

And you wait.


End file.
